“Does this dress make my ass look big?" I ask him."You look like a fat cow in high heels," he laughs.Yes, I am married to this idiot.”

“You’re beautiful always, but you make a little dress and high heels look fuckin’ spectacular and when your face looks just… like… that, honey, you take my breath away.”God, God, God, I loved this man.”

“Baby,” his voice gentled, “this is me seein’ to that soft spot when I say quiet-like that I... will... be... there... in ten. And what I mean is, when I get there in ten, your ass better be there.”Oh boy. “Are you coming on your bike?”“Yeah.”“I’m in a tight, short, little aquamarine dress with high heels. I can’t get on a bike. “You’re in a tight, short dress and high heels?” Tack asked.“Yes.”“I’ll be in there in five.”

“Shy, she’s yours, that’s what you say. Control your woman,” High demanded. “Get her ass out.”My eyes went to Shy to see him looking at High, and he wasn’t looking pissed. He was looking reflective. Then he said, “Tab and I don’t play it that way. You wanna order your old lady around, do what you do, not for me to say. I asked her to go, she didn’t go. Not gonna make her. But you try, you’ll deal with me.”God, I loved my guy.”

“This dress makes me look fat," I told Jasmine as we stood near the back of the crowd and watched the last minute preperations fall into place. She glanced over at me and my efforts to rearrange the folds of my long, gauzy dress."Your pregnant," she stated. "Everything's supposed to make you look fat."I Scowled. "I think the correct reponse was 'No it doesn't.”

“Does my new feminism make me look fat?”